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Page 109
Owain laughed dutifully at what he assumed was a joke as they emerged into the bailey, but the sound cut off at the sight of the fully caparisoned horse a hulking groom was holding with some difficulty.
"What is this?" Ian asked sharply in English.
"The mistress begs that you will use the old lord's destriers," the groom panted. "There is no one else who can manage them. If you will not ride them, the lady says, they must be destroyed."
"Very well," Ian snarled.
It was ridiculous that this should hurt him. The horses were superb and very valuable, with a strength and endurance few, if any, could match. It was also true that the breed of gray stallions seemed possessed of devils. They bit and lashed out at anyone unless controlled by a powerful hand. It made them invaluable as war horses. In fact, they often seemed more eager to fight than the men who rode them, and needed to be restrained from charging at anything that moved. The men-at-arms would not ride them, nor even go near them by choice.
Simon had had no trouble with them. Possibly his weight communicated some force of authority. Ian could manage them also. He had had a gift of one when he was still Simon's squire and had learnedafter some painful experienceshow to deal with them, and he had ridden them when he had helped out during Simon's illness. Now he warned Owain and Geoffrey to stand well away, seized the reins from the groom, and vaulted into the saddle. The horse leapt straight up into the air, came down on its forelegs, and lashed out with its hind. Ian drew in the reins against the beast's resistance until the neck was arched into its breast. It reared, but with somewhat less enthusiasm. He kept the reins drawn tight but steady. The horse came down, danced a bit, lashed out once more with its hind legs, and settled.

 
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